


In the Lights

by featherlightflight



Category: One Direction (Band)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-28
Updated: 2014-06-28
Packaged: 2018-02-05 04:07:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1804717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/featherlightflight/pseuds/featherlightflight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The lights are out when Louis wakes up.</p><p>He can't bring himself to open his eyes but he doesn't really need to. He knows he's not in his own bed. The sheets are too soft and so is the mattress and his toes don't hang off the edge.</p><p>The shower is running so Louis has to assume he's alone, wherever he is, and right now would be an excellent time to make his escape if only he could bring himself to move. His limbs feel heavy and while he's only a little confused he feels a lot sick so no, he's not making a run for it just yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Lights

**Author's Note:**

> So I had this vague idea and I kind of started writing but I don't really have any idea where to go with it next? The idea was never fully formed to begin with and even what I've already written could easily be changed. Anyways if you read this and have any ideas about what I should do with it? Definitely let me know, I'm all ears.

There are lights.

Flashing lights. Greens and reds and blues and they're blinking so fast, blurring together. It's almost nauseating. Almost.

The club is packed tonight, bodies pressed together like they belong. Louis thinks maybe they do. There's a body pressed tight to his own back as well, hands on his hips and lips on his neck. He thinks maybe he'll let this stranger take him home tonight. Judging by the way the stranger's hands drop lower, pull him in tighter, it's a definite possibility. Anything is a pretty definite possibility at this point. Between the shots he took - tequila if he wasn't mistaken - and the drinks gentlemen numbers one, two, and three purchased him before realizing that they really didn't stand a chance, well, Louis doesn't really stand a chance anymore either.

"Let's get a little more drink in you, yeah?" A gruff voice asks from behind him, fingers digging in to flesh just a little where they've come to settle under his shirt.

It's hardly necessary but Louis' never been one to turn down a free drink. Never turned down a paid drink either, his brain corrects, but he's not about to offer to pay. Especially not when they make it to the bar and he actually gets a good look at gentleman number four. He's hardly taller than Louis, blue eyes and even bluer hair, and while he's not fat he's also not fit and he's absolutely not Louis' type.

He takes the drink anyways.

The song changes and the lights go with it, bright yellows and bright oranges exploding across the sky like fireworks. To Louis it looks a little like a light show and a lot like a sunset.

He reaches for his drink but it's already empty and huh, when exactly did that happen? Blue eyes is smirking at him, pulling him back onto the dance floor. His blue shirt is tacky but Louis can't stop his feet, they're following without his permission. _Falling_  without his permission more like. Stupid feet. The blue man is there to catch him, steady him with a smirk and a hand that's just a little too firm on his hip.

 _I'm gonna be sick._ He tries to say but the words don't come out, or maybe they do. Louis doesn't know.

The lights are green now, all of them. They might be flashing. _Everything's flashing_ Louis thinks. He feels fuzzy, like maybe the hands on his hips aren't really there. He hopes the lips on his neck aren't.

" _We're gonna have so much fun tonight baby._ "

 

\-----

 

The lights are out when Louis wakes up.

He can't bring himself to open his eyes but he doesn't really need to. He knows he's not in his own bed. The sheets are too soft and so is the mattress and his toes don't hang off the edge.

The shower is running so Louis has to assume he's alone, wherever he is, and right now would be an excellent time to make his escape if only he could bring himself to move. His limbs feel heavy and while he's only a little confused he feels a lot sick so no, he's not making a run for it just yet.

 

\-----

 

Louis' not alone anymore when he wakes up the second time, but the lights are still out, or maybe they're out again. Louis doesn't know.

There's an arm around his middle and a firm chest pressed tight to his back. One glance tells him it's not the blue haired, blue eyed, blue shirted stranger he half expected it to be and he doesn't quite know what to make of that. He feels warm though, safe. He doesn't want to leave yet but he knows he probably should. The longer he stays the harder it will be to go.

It's not particularly hard to find his clothes, they're folded neatly on the chair by the door. There's a note card on top, folded just as neatly, a name and a number scrawled on it in black biro.

Louis takes his clothes and leaves the note card. He won't be calling.

 

\-----

 

The streetlights flicker as Louis steps out onto the sidewalk and he isn't entirely sure where he is.

He's also not entirely sure how it could possibly be night time.

He doesn't really care enough to question it.

 

\-----

 

"Louis Tomlinson?" The voice is deep, definitely someone important.

Louis nods first before mumbling a "yeah" into the phone.

The sun is bright today and it's put Louis in a good mood. He's optimistic. So what if the last seven jobs he's applied for didn't work out? So what if he's running pretty damn close to his last couple pounds? So what if he's about to be evicted? The cashier at the coffee shop gave him a free croissant _and_ a free coffee, and he's rather enjoying soaking up the sun on his favorite park bench. Today is a good day.

"We've reviewed your application," The man says, "and while your resume is quite impressive, I'm sorry to say we don't have a position for you at the moment."

Louis doesn't bother to listen to the rest.

His resume was all bullshit anyways.

 

\-----

 

The lights are dim tonight.

The crowd's not huge but it's lively. Louis doesn't have a clue how he keeps getting into these clubs. He never pays a cover and he never waits in the line and he's not a pretty girl in a skin tight skirt but they haven't stopped him yet.

He's never even been here before is the thing. It's nicer than what he's used to, like there's an actual VIP section with actual VIPs and he doesn't know how he ended up behind that particular velvet rope but the booths are comfier on this side so he's not really complaining.

He's on his fourth drink, or maybe it's his eighth, he has a hard time counting when he's this drunk.

There are seven people in their booth, four guys and three girls and himself. And that makes eight, so he figures he must only be on his fourth drink.

"What're we celebrating?" He asks when their glasses all go up with a round of cheers.

 

\-----

 

Louis doesn't remember the answer when he wakes up but he recognizes the room.

It's dark and he's hungover as hell so he takes the two little pills on the bedside table and leaves the note card on the chair again.

He slips out just in time to hear the shower turn off.

 

\-----

 

When he gets to his flat the lights won't turn on, and judging by the smell neither will the refrigerator.

Louis can hardly say he's surprised.

 

\-----

 

"We've really got to stop meeting like this." Henry hums, his teeth just barely grazing over Louis' ear. Or was it Howard? Herman?

The guy looks vaguely familiar in the flashing lights of the club, or maybe he's just fuckable and Louis' drunk enough to confuse the two.

"You have no idea who I am, do you." Holden murmurs and it's not a question but Louis shakes his head anyways, watches his vision blur as his eyes try to catch up with the motion.

Harvey smiles and dips his head down to kiss him.

Louis thinks he might be on fire.

 

\-----

 

There's food on the bedside table when he wakes up. Eggs and bacon and toast and a cup of coffee that's still steaming along with two more little pills.

He eats it all and leaves the note card on the chair. Again.

 

\-----

 

Louis is tired and he's more than a little hungover but he gets on the tube anyways.

He follows the instructions scrawled out on his arm to a rather large and rather impressive building. The entire thing is made of glass, or at least it appears that way, and it's at least 40 stories high, probably more. A door man opens the door for him and a receptionist offers him coffee while he waits in a well furnished lobby area on the 23rd floor.

The call had been unexpected at best. He doesn't even remember applying for a job here, can't even figure out just what it is they do. The furtinture alone has him feeling hopelessly underdressed though.

"Mr. Tomlinson?" A woman's voice greets and Louis stands to shake her hand. Her blouse is open one too many buttons and her skirt is a little crooked but Louis doesn't comment.

She leads him down a long hallway to a conference room. Three of the walls are dark wood and the fourth is glass so clean Louis would think it were open air if not for the reflection of the setting sun outside. There are easily 20 chairs around the conference table but only three of them are occupied, all with their backs to the window and gazes focused solely on Louis.

"Ah, Mr. Tomlinson," The man in the center says, "please, have a seat." He motions to the chair directly across from himself and Louis tries not to stare at the bizarre pattern what's left of his hair has woven across his scalp. "Your resume is quite impressive, I must say," He continues as though introductions are a completely unnecessary nicety, "we've had some trouble getting in contact with a few of your previous employers but everyone we've talked to thus far have given you glowing reviews."

Louis can't imagine who they've called, considering half of his references are the numbers of guys he never called back and the other half are entirely made up.

"I'll be quite frank Mr. Tomlinson, this interview is more of a formality than anything else." The man says as he pushes a leather bound folder across the table, "the position is as good as yours. You have 48 hours to look over the contract, we leave for America on Monday. I think I speak for the whole team when I say we hope you'll be joining us."

 

\-----

 

Louis barely makes it through the first page of the contract before he calls back and accepts the job. He knows nothing about music and nothing about fashion and he's almost positive this is a case of mistaken identity but the number next to the euro sign has more than enough zeros to make him bite his tongue.

 

\-----

 

He wakes up Monday morning just a little bit less hungover than every other morning. The shower is running and there's breakfast on the bedside table and he doesn't have a clue how this keeps happening but he isn't exactly complaining either.

His clothes are folded on their usual chair by the door and there's another note card with the same name and number on it.

Whoever Harry is, he's certainly persistent.

 

\-----

 

The car shows up outside his flat at 9:45 on the dot just like the man on the phone said it would.

The driver gets out to open the trunk but Louis waves him off, points out that he only has one bag and he'd rather keep it with him. He doesn't bother to mention it's pretty much everything he owns.

Louis doesn't bother with a seat belt and if his driver has a problem with that he doesn't voice it. 


End file.
